A variety of various one-shots
by dalekexterminator
Summary: This is simply a space where I can dump all my shorts that I won't be able to continue for some time. You will find mostly tiny!fic here so I hope you like that sort of thing. (This will include supernatural, person of interest, and doctor who fandoms, just to name a few) Enjoy!
1. Supernatural (tiny oc)

**AN: hello everybody! First one-shot is supernatural. The tiny girl is my OC.**

The girl backed away in terror, holding the old-fashioned lantern up higher as though it could somehow protect her.

"What-what are you?"

She cringed. The giant hovering above her was frowning in deep confusion. His voice so low it felt like it was shaking her very being. As for his question, the poor, terrified girl had no idea how to answer. Yet answer she must, before the giant's curiosity overcame his trepidation.

"I-I d-don't...under-understa-"

"Are you some kind of monster?" The giant spoke over her, his voice now shockingly demanding.

She cringed, "M-mm-mon-s-ster? I-I don't..." swallowing nervously, she gazed shyly up at him. He was peering at her so intensely. His eyes round with disbelief. She thought it strange, but the more she looked at his face, the less she was afraid. Indeed, the poor girl was mostly just nervous. She had never really spoken to anyone in her lifetime. At least not that she could remember.  
>It seemed to her that, as she studied him more, he looked sad underneath. His eyes were filled with sorrow. She could see the tears there. Shed and unshed. They were there and they were many.<br>It was then she noticed his disheveled appearance. And the fact that he was alone in the woods in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. And those clothes were not exactly brand-new.  
>Hesitantly, she placed the lantern, her only source of light, on the ground and took a few steps back. Like she was giving some sort of peace offering.<p>

The giant's shocked expression changed to one of confusion.

"P-please!" She spoke up, her voice becoming more bold as she used it. "Please...you'll n-need a light. These woods are awful-awful d-dark." She faltered as his demeanor changed once again.

"What? There's no way this light will help me. It's too small."

Oops, she hadn't realized that.

"Ah! I-I didn't realize. I'm so sorry! I-I'm afraid I'm t-terribly stupid."

Though she was far too distracted to see it, the giant's expression visibly shifted at her distress. It became softer, and much more genuine. He realized that, whatever the thing before him was, it was certainly not dangerous. In fact, it was probably thinking he was the dangerous one. Well, that was true, but certainly not in this situation. He tried a smile, hoping to relieve her of some anxiety.

"No worries," then, deciding it would be best to build some trust, accepted the tiny offering. "Thank you. I, uh, I'm sorry if I scared you."

Immediately, she picked up on his change of heart. She smiled with relief and felt a great deal braver.

"But look, I can't just leave you here with no light. I'll take you with me."

This came as a big surprise to her. "W-what? But-but, where are you going?" She didn't know what else to ask.

"Home. At least, I hope. Listen, I promise I won't hurt you you anything, in fact, I'll protect you. How about it?"

It only took her a mere moment to decide, "Alright. But only if you tell me your name."

He seemed surprised, but shrugged in acceptance of her term, "It's Dean. Dean Winchester." He lowered his arm and set his hand in front of her.

With a huge grin and little grace she clambered into his open palm. "I'm Hazel. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

An amused smirk left a shadow on his lips as he answered, "likewise."

"Do you know your way around these woods?" Hazel asked him as they set off.

"Erm, no. Actually, I'm kinda lost. Like, really lost, I don't even know how I got here in the first place."

"No worries. I know this place like the back of my hand. I can guide you to the nearest road, if you like."

"Yes! Yes, absolutely. Lead on."


	2. Person of Interest (pocket finch)

**AN: Hello everybody! My next short is Person of Interest (I adore this show) Since I cannot find ANY tiny!finch fic at all, I wanted to try it out and see how people react. I think it's adorable and will probably be writing more, but I would definitely appreciate your opinion on the subject :) and as always, thx for reading ~**

Reese stared in unbelieving astonishment at the figure before him. Was this even real? What on earth did this mean? However, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The secrecy, the caution, the need-to-know type personality. Pieces that had always seemed a bit off now slid perfectly into place in his mind with a satisfying click.

"Harold?" Still, he felt the need confirm the fact. After all, these were less than normal circumstances.

The impossibly small man took a step back in alarm. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself.

John felt a bit guilty for startling his employer so. Although, considering the things he had done in his lifetime, he couldn't say he'd blame anyone for being afraid of him.

"yes, Mr Reese, it's me." His answer was curt and, though his voice trembled a little more than usual, he sounded a bit put off. "How did you find this place?"

Reese shrugged, "well, you know me. I'm very resourceful."

"yes, I suppose you are..."

Silence fell, the awkward kind. Reese just couldn't stop staring, a fact which clearly made the little person uncomfortable.

"how long were you planning on keeping this a secret?"

Finch shrugged, "you really have to ask that?"

Reese straitened up, making it clear that he wasn't leaving until he got some kind of answer.

Leaning more heavily on his cane, Finch began in a slightly frustrated, somewhat weary voice. "Forever, ideally. The less people know about me, the better for everyone involved. I never intended for you to find out. Much less find out in this particular way. It opens the way for...unwelcome questions. I don't have time to explain things, and I don't particularly want to either. If you wish to continue in your current line of employment, you will come no closer."

Considering a moment, John thought it would be unwise, at least at this time, to press anything. They both needed some space to recover and adjust to this surprising turn of events.

"I suppose that's reasonable."

Finch seemed surprise, "you're alright with this?"

"you're the boss. And I can't afford to be fired."

Finch frowned, not sure what to think. It wasn't often he was lost for words but this man could certainly surprise him. Of course, he would have to set new precautions in place now that he knew, but he didn't think it would be too much trouble. Actually, this new situation might turn out to be an improvement. Harold could dare to hope. In any case, it would be interesting at the very least.

"Well, since I'm here I may as well be useful. How do you like your coffee?"

Once again, Finch found himself surprised. This man was indeed different.

"I'm afraid there's no time for that at the moment. We have a new number. I was just about to call you before...well, you'd better get to work."

John grabbed his coat, "right, I'm on it. They just don't stop, do they."

He was about to open the door when Harold spoke again, "Mr Reese?"

"yes?"

he hesitated, changing his mind, "just..be careful."

Reese nodded, "you know me Harold, I'm always careful."

And with a quick smile, he was gone.


	3. Supernatural 2 (tiny cas)

**AN: another supernatural fic. This time with tiny!cas hope you enjoy :) also, Carol is my OC**

Castiel returned to consciousness slowly and painfully. He felt sore all over and extremely cramped for some reason. Not only that, but he could feel some kind of pressure on his side. It would disappear one moment only to come back again. It was quite annoying. Like someone was poking him. Only that was impossible as whatever was causing it was far too large to be a person. Wasn't it?  
>Groaning, the angel cautiously opened his eyes a crack. He was surprised when the prodding feeling stopped almost immediately.<br>"Oh, thank goodness! I thought you might be dead!"  
>Castiel's eyes snapped open at the voice. Quickly, he rolled to his feet at the sight of the massive figure before him. However, his body was not yet ready to perform such a feet and he ended up stumbling and falling back on his rear. Wincing in pain, the unfortunate angel awaited his inevitable fate.<br>"Careful there. That thing did quite the number on you."  
>Cas was surprised. Carefully, he looked up again. Well, the giant didn't actually seem all that threatening. She smiled kindly at him, concern showing in her eyes. If the angel had to guess, he would say she couldn't have been more than thirteen years old.<br>Then, a realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, carrying him to his feet despite the pain.  
>"Sam! Dean! Where are they! What happened to them!"<br>He remembered the three of them battling that creature. It hit him hard with some sort of energy blast. Then, nothing. Everything was black after that.  
>"You mean your two friends? Those guys who were with you?"<br>"Yes, do you know where they are?" Cas looked around, noticing something else that was odd.  
>Everything around him was blown out of proportion. Ridiculously huge.<br>"They left a while ago. After the tall one killed the monster."  
>Poor Cas was so confused, "no. no they wouldn't leave me behind. They're not like that."<br>"I don't think they saw what happened to you. I heard one of them say something along the lines of 'damn that angel! Running off again right after all the action! Would it hurt him to say goodbye?' Or something like that."  
>If Dean had been there, he might have thought the girls gruff imitation of his voice somewhat offensive.<br>As it was, Cas just became more confused. "What are you talking about? What happened to me?"  
>"Well, you shrunk, my friend. Whatever that thing was, it had the power to miniaturize folks, apparently."<br>Castiel just let that soak in for a moment. It would certainly explained a lot.  
>"Okay," he said slowly, "that's a new one."<br>"I'm Carol." The girl did not seem particularly put out by his current predicament, "Just by the by."  
>"Castiel," he returned.<br>Come to think of it, she didn't seem all that worried about monsters being real either. Or the fact that she had heard Dean call him an angel. Actually, what was she even doing here in the first place? Was it just a coincidence?  
>The angel puzzled over all this for a few moments. The girl, Carol, simply watched him with mild curiosity.<br>Well, one thing he knew for sure was that he needed her help if he was going to find the Winchester brothers again. He could feel that his powers were not what they used to be. If that was the case, then it would probably be wise not to pester her with questions.  
>"Uuhh...I don't suppose you could...help me out, maybe? I need to get back to my friends."<br>She smiled, a large, reassuring smile, "of course! I'd be glad to give you a hand." As if to prove her point, she stretched out her right hand, palm up. "You look like you could use one."  
>Wondering what on earth he was getting himself into, Cas accepted the invitation somewhat gingerly. It was a strange experience, being held in the palm of someone else's hand. But it seemed he had no other choice.<br>"So, Castiel, what exactly do you and your friends do for a living?"


	4. Supernatural 3 (brotp no GT)

**AN: another supernatural thing. This one is not GT. Idk, it's really late here O_o and I really REALLY needed some fluff...brooooooohuuuuuuuuugzzzzzzzzzz \(;n;)/**

It was over. It was finally over. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. His legs felt dead. All Sam wanted to do now was collapse somewhere and sleep for a million years.

But he couldn't.

Though the danger had passed, they still had wounds to clean. He had to be strong. For Dean.

"Dean-"

It was only then did Sam notice. Notice the look on his brother's face. It made him freeze in icy cold fear. Clawing pain shot through his heart at the look on Dean's face. His face contorted from all kinds of pain.

"Dean! Are you alright?"

Sam hurried to his side, but Dean only stumbled further away.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine Sam." His voice was gruff, shaky, broken. Sam wanted to cry because of it.

However, physically, he was fine. Sam scanned him from head to toe and he didn't seem to be suffering from anything worse than minor cuts and bruises. Well, at least there was that.

"Look, you don't have to-"

"Just, stop it!" Now his back was turned, Sam couldn't see his face anymore. "I-I can't-Sammy, what the hell happened here?!"

His voice was barely steady now.

With his heart breaking, Sam took a cautious step forward. Then another. And finally another until he stood right behind his older brother.

"It's okay, Dean. We did what we had to do."

Dean turned around suddenly and Sam's eyes widened in surprise. His brother's face was streaked with tears. His face was a mask of pain and sorrow.

"What we /had/ to do?!" Anger mixed with the anguish. "Look around Sam, is this what we had to do?"

To this, Sam had no reply. Instead, his own eyes filled with tears as he watched his brother.

Dean shook his head at his speechless brother. "How many, Sam? How many are dead because of us?" He croaked, hoping he would never actually know the answer to that question.

For a moment, Sam felt paralyzed. Here his brother was suffering, and he wasn't doing a thing about it. He was afraid, though. Almost too afraid to reach out. But the look on Dean's face, that was enough.

And so, without a word, Sam wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulders.

He felt the older Winchester tense up, but he didn't let go. For a while, Sam watched Dean struggle to contain himself. But he wasn't /that/ strong, and soon the walls cracked. His defenses dropped like stones.

And Dean wept.

Yes, you read that right. He broke down completely. His legs could no longer support him and he fell to his knees. Sam followed him down, wrapping his other arm around him and pulling him closer.

That night, Dean cried into Sam's shoulder. All the pain, the loss, the sacrifice, the overwhelming responsibility was raging inside of him.

That night, Sam held him close. That night, he never wanted Sam to let go.

The feeling was mutual. After all, Sam was crying too. And Dean was holding onto him just as tightly...


	5. Teen Wolf (pocket stiles)

**AN: Okay so, I haven't written a thing all week and felt really bad about it... And then this happened. Really I mostly wrote this to get myself back in the groove, so to speak. Kinda just, flexing the old writing muscle. I've been feeling really out of shape in that regard. But this made me feel loads better so I will be getting back to Pocket!John real soon now, I'm so sorry I haven't updated that lately! Also I will apologize for the fact that this is not an Avengers thing, but I'm positive I will write a one-shot for that soon. I have an idea for it that I hope you will like so I'll get right on that.**

**In the mean time, please enjoy a little Pocket!Stiles :) (no slash)**

(Scott) "Derek! Derek, where are you?!"

Things were not going well. Scott had his hands full dealing with this big-ass monster and had just gotten a text from Allison telling him there were three more on the other side of town and if he didn't get there quick she and her father were going to be overrun. On top of all that, Stiles was missing.

Scott had smelled Derek the second the other werwolf walked into the school. He was hoping the older man could help him dispatch the hulking beast quickly so he could aid the Argents. So he called, and Derek came running. Even with the two of them fighting together, though, they were having a hard time with it. And Scott had a horrible suspicion that this fight was just a distraction to keep him from separated from his friends.

"Allison's in trouble!" He shouted to Derek as soon as the fight let up a little.

Derek nodded, "Go, I'll handle this."

They dodged another volley of attacks.

"But the whole reason I came here in the middle of the night was because I got a message from Stiles." Scott was loath to leave. Especially since this had all obviously been a trap. Stiles could be in very real and immediate danger.

Landing a few good hits themselves, the creature retreated for a moment.

Derek seized this opportunity and pulled Scott behind some cover where they could talk longer without being interrupted. Before he could start, however, Scott spoke first, "I'm worried about him, he's been gone for almost a week. If we're right about a witch or a sorcerer being behind everything that's been happening, who knows what they could have done to him. I know he's here, though, I smelled him when I arrived, but it was faint..."

Derek stopped him there, "Go help Allison. I'll take care of things here, and then look for Stiles. Don't worry, I'll find him if it takes me all night. I promise."

Scott hesitated for a moment. But he trusted Derek. Finally, he nodded and took off running. Alone with his prey at last, Derek came out of hiding and faced it head on. It roared at him, black ooze dripping from various shallow wounds on its hulking, mutated form. The pain only made it angrier, and even more deadly.

Derek rolled his shoulders. Baring his fangs, he releasing his own animalistic growl. Not a shred of fear in his eyes, Derek charged.

(some time later)

The dead body of the creature disintegrated, leaving nothing behind but black dust. Derek was convinced this was the work of some kind of magic, for lack of a better word. He wasn't one to believe in all that mystical voodoo nonsense. But then again, he was a werwolf, so maybe it wasn't all that strange.

He shook those thoughts out of his head. It didn't really matter anyway where these things came from. Let the others worry about all that. Right now, he had a promise to keep.

Derek took a deep breath, letting the stale air that smelled of sweat and cleaning supplies fill his lungs. At first that was all he could pick up, there was nothing else here as far as he could tell. But then the faintest trace hit his nose. Even with his heightened senses it was barely detectable. It was there, though. And that was good enough for Derek.

Once he had picked it up, it was easy enough to follow. Though, Derek was concerned at just how weak it was. He was positive it was Stiles, but at times it was hard to tell. After a while, it finally led him to the boys locker room. The scent was strongest in there, although still quite weak. Derek was sure this was where Stiles was. However, it was quiet. Too quiet. Cautiously (for he was rather suspicious at this point), Derek stepped into the dark room.

"Stiles?"

No answer.

"C'mon Stiles," he moved silently through the room, searching. "This isn't funny. I know you're in here, I can smell you. So quit hiding. It's pointless."

Was it his imagination, or did he hear something? Like the scurrying of a rat.

Focusing on his ears, Derek called once more. "Stiles?"

There it was again, coming from under the lockers. Pinpointing the exact location, Derek moved swiftly. Dropping to his knees, he lowered his head and for a moment did not understand what he was looking at.

It was Stiles, shrunken down to an impossible size, hiding in the corner.

"What the-"

The tiny boy cringed at his voice. He pressed against the wall, hiding his face in his arms. Now that he was so close, Derek could smell the fear coming off of him in waves.

"Hey, Stiles, it's just me. Derek. You don't have to be scared." He tried his best to soften his voice, but Derek was not good at this sort of thing.

Stiles made a pitiful moaning sound. Curling into a tighter ball, he tried to make himself invisible.

Slowly, and as gently as he could possibly manage, Derek reached for the boy. The tips of his fingers brushed against his trembling form. No pain. That was good at least. Derek sighed, withdrawing his hand. He didn't want Stiles to be any more frightened than he already was.

"Listen, Stiles, I don't want to give you a mini heart-attack or anything. I can see that you're, uh... a little beyond reasoning right now, so... I'm just gonna wait here until you're ready to come out."

Damn, he was really not good at this. Stiles was his friend and he felt all kinds of horrible leaving him alone so scared and helpless. But he got up and sat on the bench anyway. Derek would be right there when Stiles needed him. The only thing he could give him at the moment was space. If he did anything more, Derek was afraid the poor kid might panic and hurt himself, or Derek might even harm him accidentally.

So he waited. And listened. Derek could here his tiny heart beating irregularly fast. He listened as it gradually slowed and Stiles seemed to calm down. It took him a little longer, however, to come out of hiding.

Derek watched without moving as Stiles stepped cautiously into the open. When he spotted the werwolf sitting a few feet away, he turned on his heels, almost as if he was going to go straight back and never come out again. But, after hesitating for a second, he kept on turning. Rubbing his eyes, Stiles blinked up at the massive form before him, like he was a particularly stubborn illusion that refused to disappear.

He heaved a sigh of frustration, "this- this is real... isn't it?"

"Afraid so," Derek replied.

Stiles rubbed his nose, then ran his hands through his hair, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. All his nervous ticks appeared. Even at this size, Stiles was still a spaz.

"Do you know what happened to you?" Derek asked.

"Yeah... I- I mean no, not- not really... I dunno, it's all... swirling together. I can't- I can't think."

He was getting frustrated, Derek could tell. It would probably be best to get him out of here. Derek lowered his hand in front of the mini-teenager. He shrunk back a little, surprised, but didn't run, which Derek took as a good sign.

"What are you doing?" The words tumbled from his mouth in a rush as adrenalin coursed through his system, prompting Stiles to get away fast. He fought against it, though, Derek was a friend. He didn't have to run.

"I'll take you Scott. You guys can figure out something, plus he's really worried about you. So, unless you want to walk all the way across town, this is our only option."

Stiles eyed the large hand and then Derek himself with a great deal of trepidation. "I'm not at all comfortable with this."

Rolling his eyes, Derek gave him his best exasperated look. "Well, I'm not really either, but we don't have much of a choice here."

His mind was going a million miles an hour. Stiles was terrified and confused, which was not a good combination. Part of him still thought that maybe this was all just a dream and that he would wake up at any moment. Stiles wanted that to be true so very badly. But he knew that this was real. And though Derek generally scared him on a good day, the now colossal man was his only hope.

"Screw it," Stiles finally muttered. He clambered over Derek's fingers and stumbled onto his palm. Grabbing his thumb for support, Stiles thought his heart was going to pound right out of his chest as he was enveloped in a cage of flesh.

Derek was taken aback when the kid practically tripped into his hand. Stiles was definitely not the most coordinated guy around. Curling his fingers around him protectively, Derek stood. His patience was running a little thin and he wanted to get out of the school quickly. However, when he felt Stiles' heart rate pick up again, he slowed down.

"You okay?" Although he would never admit it out loud, Derek felt a great deal of concern and responsibility for this tiny figure trembling in his palm. It was so surreal, the kid was barely bigger than his thumb! And he was holding onto the digit as though his life depended on it.

Stiles jumped at the sound of his voice, it was much louder now that he was closer to Derek. All at once he seemed to realize what it was he was clinging to and jerked away. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Derek thought he could see a red tinge creep into the teenager's cheeks.

"Yeah, uh, yeah I'm fine. Totally, totally fine. This is- this is completely normal."

Satisfied with that answer, Derek started moving again before Stiles stopped him.

"Wait wait wait wait!"

Derek looked down at him, annoyed, but his expression immediately softened when he saw Stiles' face. He wasn't so much terrified anymore, but nervous, which was encouraging to the werwolf. And though he couldn't meet Derek's eyes for more than a few seconds at a time, Stiles still made an effort.

"What is it?" He asked softly.

"Ah... Well, ummm..." He sighed, "thanks man, for not- I mean..."

"Forget it. I'm just keeping a promise."

"But still, I appreciate you coming for me."

Derek nodded, a silent acceptance of his gratitude. Though he never would have said it out loud, the hardened werwolf appreciated his thanks more than Stiles knew.


	6. The Avengers (tiny Banner)

**AN: hello. Yes. This is my Avengers one shot. Need some science bros feels? I think you'll like this then. (No slash, strictly bros)**

**Written for Heroofthe13thDay. I hope you like it! I've never gotten requests before, sorry it took so long (o~o;;)**

For Tony, the day started out normal enough. Well, as normal as things could be when you happened to be Iron Man. And since Pepper was away for the weekend he was making a general mess of things. With no one around to rein him in, Stark was at liberty to do as he pleased, which was never a good thing. Half finished experiments were strewn about the manor, music blared from every speaker, and the kitchen... well, let's just say Tony did not know how to cook. He was in the middle of tinkering with some insane device when Jarvis interrupted him.

The music volume automatically turned down as the mechanical voice began to speak. "Proximity alert. Sir, you've got mail."

Tony sat up, confused. Pulling off the pair of goggles he had been wearing, he replied disbelievingly, "Mail? Put up the front door camera feed, Jarvis."

A screen appeared next to him and he immediately rolled his chair closer. Tapping it lightly, he focused it and zoomed in. Indeed, there was a man there. The stranger jogged up to the front door, dropped a small package in front of it, knocked a few times, and then left. Tony rotated the view and got a look at the car. Scanning it, the computer pulled up the stats. It was just a regular delivery truck. Nothing suspicious there.

He drummed his fingers on the table, humming curiously. He didn't usually get mail delivered directly to the Stark manor. Unless he ordered something. Intrigued, Stark finally made up his mind. Grabbing a scanner from amongst the mess of machinery, he walked briskly for the exit. When he made it to the lobby, he hesitated at the door. Running a quick scan over the area, he didn't pick up any strange energy readings or anomalies. Convinced there was no immediate danger, Tony quickly snapped the door open, as though to catch any surprises waiting for him off guard. But there were no surprises. Only a small box wrapped in brown paper. There were no markings on it, but it seemed innocent enough. He considered for a moment that this was probably a bad idea. Shrugging, Stark grabbed the box anyway.

Many scans and tests later (performed while Tony was at a safe distance and behind a wall of blast proof plastic) he decided it was safe to open. The only unusual thing about it was that it was shielded against any type of x-ray device. Which meant Stark had no idea what was inside. So he thought he'd better find out.

Still not taking any chances, though, Tony opted for some remote control arms to do the unwrapping for him. When he moved his arms, the machines would move the same way so it was rather easy. Once the paper was out of the way, he carefully pulled open the flaps and upended it.

What tumbled out was something he least expected.

It was Bruce. His friend, Bruce Banner. Tiny. Shrunken to only a few inches in height. Unconscious, but very much alive.

It was so surprising that Tony was actually frozen in shock for a moment. He didn't know what to do, what to think. But that only lasted for a short time. Stark quickly snapped out of it and got to work. It would take everything in his immeasurable skills set to figure this one out.

**(Banner POV)**

/Banner... Banner/

Bruce drifted through a dreamy darkness. He thought he heard someone calling his name, but it was distant, fuzzy.

/Bruce.../

Slowly, his consciousness drifted to the surface and he became dimly aware of a dull headache. A small groan escaped his lips. Bruce attempted to move his limbs but they felt like lead.

"Hey, glad to see you're finally waking up." This time he heard the voice clearly and immediately recognized it as Tony Stark's. It was strange, though. He sounded like he was trying to speak softly, but it was unusually loud in Banner's ears. "How're you, uh... feeling?"

Frowning, Bruce wondered at how awkward the question sounded. He was growing more concerned by the minute. As feeling slowly returned to his body, he realized that he was lying on his back on a cold, hard surface. He also had no memory of the past few days.

He tried to speak, "hmmpf." Okay, that didn't really work out.

"I'll... Take that to mean not very well, then. Look, you're going to have to trust me on this. Really, just, don't freak out, okay. Actually, better yet, don't even open your eyes. Just relax right there, maybe go back to sleep. That would actually, probably be best. Trust me, don't open your eyes, go back to sleep, simple really. I swear I'm going to fix this."

Now Bruce was really worried.

His eyes snapped open. Even this small action doubled the pain in his head. At first, he couldn't see anything, but as the world swam into focus Bruce recognized the ceiling of Tony's lab.

"Wh- what... Happened?" He finally managed to gasp.

"I was hoping you could tell me. You kinda just showed up on my doorstep, so I have no clue. But, we'll figure it out."

/figure what out? What was it that needed fixing?/ These were questions Banner desperately wanted to ask, but couldn't quite get the words out. He closed his eyes, the glaring light was doing nothing for the pain in his head. All he could hear were strange mechanical beeps and whirs. What was Stark up to? Focusing all his energy into his arms, he tried to move them. It was hard, at first he could only wiggle his fingers, but strength gradually returned to him. Soon after, he felt like he might be able to sit up.

With slow, deliberate movements Banner pushed himself into a sitting position. Suddenly, he felt something large press against his back, steadying him.

"Careful," It was Tony's voice again, closer this time. "Don't push yourself."

Slowly, Bruce cracked one eye open. Then the other one. At first he was confused. All he saw was Stark. Nothing unusual about that. Then, he realized that that was all he saw. Tony's face filled his entire view. His friend was now a giant.

But as he looked around, Banner quickly realized what the problem was. Stark wasn't huge, he was just tiny. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw that the thing holding him up was Tony's hand. He felt the Other Guy begin to stir as icy fear crept over him.

"What the hell?" He muttered hoarsely.

"Tell me about it," Tony replied. And then he smiled. A large, confident smile. To his own surprise, Banner found himself relaxing at the sight of it. It was cocky and self-assured, the kind of smile he was used to seeing on Tony. It meant that despite the situation, Stark still believed he could do anything. That in itself was comforting.

"I've been running some tests. DNA and scans mostly." Stark's voice interrupted Banner's thoughts. He had turned back to his technology, removing his hand from behind Banner in the process. Performing a series of motions, Tony skimmed over the data he had collected.

"The results have been quite fascinating. If you're feeling up to it, you should join me. I'm sure the two of us geniuses working together can unravel this mystery."

With a smile of his own, Bruce stood. He was a little unsteady at first, but once the dizziness passed he felt like he could walk again. Moving closer, he scanned the screens Tony had pulled up, trying to absorbing the information they contained. The glaring light and technological jargon, however, made him feel like his head was about to explode. He quickly turned away in disgust.

"You alright?" Tony was looking at him again, concern written on his features.

Banner nodded half-heartedly, "yeah. Just got a doozy of a headache is all."

"Best cure for that is sleep. You should get some more rest."

Before Bruce could point out that there was no where to sleep, Tony stood and slipped off his outer jacket. Setting it on the table, he sat down again with a pleased smirk.

Banner gaped at him for a moment. "Tony, I'm not sleeping in your jacket."

"Why not? You'd fit perfectly in one of the pockets." Now Stark had a smile on his face that said he was having way too much fun with this.

"It's- that's- I-" Bruce stuttered, unable to come up with a viable excuse. He didn't want to sleep in Tony's jacket that was now the size of a small hill in front of him. It was far too surreal.

"Just try it," Tony insisted.

Bruce was actually feeling extremely tired. And he didn't exactly have a lot of options. So, he he began to walk around it, trying to find the most comfortable looking spot. Finally, he did come across a pocket, and it did look terribly inviting. With a sigh of resignation he crawled inside. He was asleep within moments.

He had nothing to worry about. After all, they were both geniuses, weren't they? They'd have this mess sorted out in no time.


	7. Person of Interest (tiny Reese)

**AN: I'm not sure about this one but I'm going to put it here anyway because I want to. This is another Person of Interest thing, but instead of pocket!Finch we have tiny!Reese which is almost just as adorable. I wrote this a while back, so it might be terrible? I dunno, you decide. I stuck to the cannon a bit, amazingly. This is supposed to be the end of the episode Number Crunch, only I've turned it into Reese and Finch's first face-to-face meeting :) enjoy!**

Carter had given him up. He didn't want to say betrayed. He understood where she was coming from and certainly didn't blame her. But it hurt all the same. Or maybe that was just the bullet in his gut.

"Mr. Reese? What's happening? Are you alright?" Finch's voice came through his earpiece. There was an undertone of panic in it that Reese did not like at all.

"They shot me, Finch. I think..." He winced, stumbling as he tried to push on. "It's not looking good."

"Where are you, Mr. Reese?"

"No, don't come, Finch. Snow's here and we can't risk you getting caught."

"Agent Snow? You mean detective Carter actually-"

"It's not her fault. She didn't know." John wasn't even really sure why he was defending her.

A moment passed filled with the sound of fast typing before he heard Finch again. "Alright, just keep moving John. I'm coming for you. When you reach the end of the street, wait for me."

Of course his employer would trace his phone. John knew he should destroy it. Keep Finch from coming. The world needed Harold more than it needed him. John considered himself replaceable. Finch was not. If he was taken by Snow, that would be it. But, there was a part of him that didn't want to let go of hope just yet. If he could just walk a little bit further, he might be able to save one more person. He might survive to fight another day. He could finally meet the man who had become his friend.

John stumbled and fell to his knees. His goal was still so far away. Vision blurred, Reese felt himself losing consciousness. He fell forward, until someone caught him. Blinking, he looked up to see Carter.

"You're in bad shape." She said, worry in her eyes. Glancing around fervently, she pulled his arm around her neck and helped him to his feet.

Was she going to try and turn him in again?

"M- my friend's... Coming for me." He could barely get the words out, he felt so weak.

"Where?"

The question surprised him. Was she actually trying to help him now?

John managed to lift his arm to point down the street. She nodded, and together they made their way slowly along the sidewalk. When they finally made it, John felt some of his energy return to him. He stumbled away from Carter, looking around for something. A car, a person, anything. But there was nothing. Only empty street.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Reese fell back against an old, greying wall that stood there. He closed his eyes and sank down into a sitting position, his legs no longer able to support him.

"Where's your friend?" Carter was still looking around, but had no more luck that he did.

"Finch?" John spoke into his earpiece. There was no response. "Finch, are you there?" Still nothing. "Harold?"

...

"I'm here, Mr. Reese."

John breathed a small sigh of relief. "You had me worried for a second." But when he looked around, there was still no one in sight. Only Carter stood by, keeping an eye out for Snow and his cronies.

"Where are you?" Reese asked.

"Hold on-" John's earpiece was picking up some strange noises along with Finch's voice. "Just... give me a moment." It sounded like Harold was struggling with something.

Then the sky started to shake.

Of course, what was above Reese and Carter's heads was not the real sky. It was merely a hodgepodge of connected materials, mainly wood and cardboard, that had been painted blue for the sake of appearances. The real thing was hardly comparable.

It was the section directly above them that was shifting. Small bits of debris rained down as the piece was removed completely.

"John?"

Reese heard his name coming from his earpiece, but also from the hole in the fake sky. Carter was backing away, eyes glued to the spot. Completely shocked by the sight, she seemed to forget everything else.

On the other hand, John felt surprisingly calm. It was as though a thick blanket had covered his senses and muffled his feelings. He watched through blurry vision as a hand bigger than himself was lowered through the opening. He barely felt anything as it picked him up.

"Just stay calm, John. I've got you."

As he was being lifted up, he heard Carter yell, "stop!"

She had her gun out, the hand froze.

"It's alright, Joss," Reese said in a hoarse whisper. "I'm pretty sure... This is that friend I was telling you about," He smiled somewhat ruefully.

Carter only stared at him in disbelief, but she lowered her weapon. The hand continued in its ascension. Before he realized it, the world Reese knew had disappeared from his line of sight. Now the only thing he saw was the worried face of a man he thought he knew.

"Finch?" He breathed, only wanting some kind of confirmation.

"Yes, Mr. Reese, it's me. Don't worry, I'm going to get you help."

Then everything went dark as John lost consciousness.

**PS: to Dragonfire Alchemist, I unfortunately have not watched Once Upon a Time. Although I have been thinking about picking it up so maybe someday :) I DO have another Supernatural idea that I've been sitting on for a while, so look forward to that! Thanks so much for all the reviews, you are amazing!  
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	8. Supernatural 4 (tiny Sam & OC)

**AN: here is a Supernatural oneshot for the lovely Dragonfire Alchemist. Thanks for getting me hooked on Once Upon a Time, I might be writing a oneshot for that soon!**

It had been a full week since Sam had shrunk smaller than a ken doll and, quite frankly, he was sick of it. Sick of Dean's constant jokes. Sick of being helpless. Of being useless. He couldn't stand another moment of it. His only comfort was when night fell and he could forget it all in sleep. He had a nice bed of sorts on the floor next to his brother's. It consisted of a pillow with one of Dean's shirts to use as a blanket. As he lay there that night, he mulled over the past seven days. They had no leads and absolutely no clue what had done this to him. He fumed for a moment, taking a little comfort from the thoughts of what he would do to whatever had put him through this. It was just as he started to doze that something highly strange happened.

A soft pressure on his shoulder shook him gently.

"Hey... Hey, wake up,"

Sam heard the whisper and opened his eyes. At first he didn't understand what he was seeing. A strange girl stood over him, her face full of worry and concern. Being still half asleep, however, his fog filled mind showed Sam something different.

"Mom?" He asked, thoroughly confused.

"What? No, please get up. We really need to go."

Sam did get up, but then his mind finally cleared and he remembered his situation. Then the realization hit him that this girl was in the exact same predicament. She had grabbed his hand and was leading him somewhere away. Sam held back a little, still very much confused.

"Hang on a second. Where are you taking me? Who are you?"

She tugged on his hand, urging him to pick up the pace.

"Don't worry, we're getting out of here."

"Stop stop stop. Just wait." Sam extracted his arm and took a step away from her. "Why, exactly, are we getting out of here?"

Now she looked confused. "I'm rescuing you."

"Rescuing me?"

"Yes."

"From what?"

"Look," she came closer to him, reaching for his hands but he drew away. "I know what it's like, to live in captivity your whole life, and it can be hard to leave. But, trust me you can escape."

"Woah, hold up there. Are you saying- do you think," Sam glanced over his shoulder and gestured with his thumb in Dean's general direction. "Do you think he...?"

She nodded, fear flashing in her eyes as she stared at the massive form that was the sleeping older Winchester.

"And, I'm his... What, Pet?"

She nodded again.

"No no, see, it's not like that at all. That's my brother, up there." He explained.

She blinked, stunned, but did not respond otherwise.

"There was kind of an... Accident, or something? We're not really sure what happened, but one day I woke up like this."

She took a small step back, and then another.

"You- you mean... You're one of them?"

Suddenly, Sam began to understand. Could it be possible? That this girl was something... Different?

"One of what, exactly?" He asked.

"One of them," she nodded towards the still sleeping form of Dean. "A giant."

"Are you saying that... You're not?"

All at once it clicked for both of them that the situation was much different than either of them originally thought. Their reactions to this realization were both immediate. She ran. And he called for Dean.

Sam tried to catch up to the stranger but she was already quite a ways ahead of him. It looked like she might get away. But then the lamp suddenly came on and Dean rose from the bed. Luckily, he was not a heavy sleeper and his little brother's calls had awoken him.

His towering form loomed above them. Sam skidded to a halt as an enormous hand passed over him, moving to block the girl's progression. She let out a squeak of distress as his fingers trapped her, lifting her high into the air as he stood. Dean peered at his catch through sleep blurred vision.

"What are you?" The question was curious, not at all threatening, but the girl did not answer. She had become deathly pale and looked like she might be sick.

"Dean!" Sam called up to his brother, "Dean!"

Seeing Sam down on the floor reminded Dean that his little brother was now somewhat vertically challenged. The older Winchester sat cross legged on the floor to make it easier to talk.

"What's going on here?" He asked, looking from the strange girl in his hand to Sam.

"I'd like to know that myself." Sam muttered.

Seeing that Sam had no more answers than he did, Dean turned to the girl. "Alright spill. What are you, where did you come from, and why are you here?"

Her eyes widened in fear. It seemed that she couldn't even move from the pure terror coursing through her system. Sam noticed this and tugged on Dean's shirtsleeve to get his attention. Dean glanced down at him questioningly.

"Maybe I should ask the questions?" It made sense. She may not be quite so scared talking to Sam who was actually around her same size (although still much taller).

Dean nodded and gently set the girl down. There was no chance of her escaping now anyway. She still looked terrified, but she seemed to mentally pull herself together enough to actually speak.

"Okay, let's start with something simple." Sam began, "do you have a name?"

She stared at him for a moment as though she didn't understand the question. Finally, she answered, "Drew. My name is Drew."

"Drew, that's a nice name." Sam tried to lighten the mood a little. The ghost of smile crossed her face and she shrugged.

"Can you tell us what you are, Drew?"

This question seemed to bother her. "I'm a p- person. I was born the way I am. Nobody ever told me what I was. I've never- never really thought about it."

"Are there more of you?" Dean asked suddenly, looking around furtively as though expecting little people to come crawling out of the woodwork.

"No!" She replied quickly. Too quickly. It was the kind of no that meant just the opposite. "I- I mean," trying to cover up her mistake, she began to stutter a little. "R- really, it- it's just me."

Suddenly, she looked so forlorn that Sam thought she must be all alone. She sighed sadly. It was a sigh that spoke volumes. 'It's complicated' being the most prevalent.

"Well," Sam really wanted to change the subject. "Do you by any chance know of anything that could shrink a person. A giant. Down to this size?"

Drew thought for a long moment. "Actually, I think I might."

"That's awesome!" Dean grinned. Flinching at the sudden booming voice, Drew glared at him.

Sam thought that they might have to make a deal on this one...


	9. Once Upon a Time (tiny hook)

**AN: I am so sorry! I've been so inactive D: With college and life and stuff though, I haven't had much time for fanfiction :/ BUT here is a one-shot I hope you will enjoy! Once Upon a Time is now my favorite show (thank you Dragonfire Alchemist ;). So yeah, this was bound to happen eventually.** **Sorry it ends so abruptly! It was late and I had to go to bed and now I don't know what I could do to make it better ;_;**

**(no, I haven't forgotten about Pocket!John either! Like I said I've just been really busy. I'm also working on a personal project, so that's been taking up a lot of my writing time. Anyways, I'll stop blathering now. Enjoy some tiny!Hook and adorable Neal!)**

Neal fought off the vicious beast, only just barely holding it back. It was the middle of the day, but the monster darkened the narrow alley with its evil presence. Hook watched, helpless and hidden under a discarded box. Flinching at every swing of the enormous beast, he wished for nothing more than to join the fight and help his friend. In his present circumstance, however, that was next to impossible. Hook had recently found himself under the curse of a witch (what he could have possibly done to offend her he had no idea). This particular curse had proved to be rather difficult to break as it had shrunk him to a mere three inches in height. A difficult size to accomplish anything at. And now he was cowering off to the side while Neal was fighting for his life and he couldn't do a damn thing about it!

Neal, for his part, was not doing too well. The monster had him backed into a corner. With one swipe, it knocked his weapon from his hands. Before Neal could recover, it had him pinned under a massive paw.

He couldn't stand by anymore, Hook /had/ to do something. He didn't care anymore that it was stupid and pointless. Neal was going to die if he didn't. Despite the danger, and the obvious fact that he could do nothing at this size, Hook ran out from beneath his cover.

"HEY!" He yelled as loudly as he could. Waving his tiny arms, Hook tried to get the beasts attention. "Hey! Over here, you big ugly monster!"

His voice was small, like his body, but it did the trick. The creature's attention shifted from Neal. It tilted its head, staring straight at Hook with its coal black eyes. They burned with a fiery black hatred.

He tried to run at that point. The thing would have struck gut-wrenching fear in him at his normal size. But now, it was downright stupefying. So he ran, but he didn't get far. In the blink of an eye, it had him trapped. He felt its crushing weight as it pressed him into the concrete. In all honesty, Hook thought he was dead. So he was greatly surprised when the pressure vanished almost as soon as it had appeared.

Neal scrambled for his sword as soon as the monster released him. He thought he heard Hook's voice. Had the pirate come to help? When he stood, however, all he saw was the beast, its back turned and vulnerable. He literally leapt at the opportunity, striking down on the phantasm with one fell swoop. The summoned creature dissolved into splintered shadows, disappearing on the breeze with one last howl of rage.

Falling to his knees from exhaustion, Neal leaned on the hilt of his sword. He was just starting to recover when he noticed something small moving on the ground.

Hook tried to push himself back up, but quickly discovered that his body was not quite ready for such an exertion. All he could do now was hope Neal did not accidentally step on him.

"Hook?" A breathless voice asked somewhere above him.

Oh, well now things were certainly about to get interesting.

With a rueful smile, Hook attempted to move again. He only just managed to roll over and was immediately confronted with Baelfire's confused and concerned face.

"The one and only." He managed to wheeze out before his body was wracked with a fit of coughing.

"What the hell? What happened to you?"

With a huge effort, Hook pushed himself into a sitting position. "Oh I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Neal's tired brain was still trying to work out what had just happened.

"You saved my life."

Hook only shrugged, wincing as pain shot through him at the motion.

Frowning with concern, Neal reached for him slowly. When Hook noticed the enormous fingers closing in around him he understandably panicked a little.

"Woah woah, easy there mate!" He shouted up at the man while trying to push the hand away. Neal withdrew a little.

"Sorry. It's just... You're hurt." Neal's brow was furrowed with worry.

Hook crossed his arms over his chest, trying (unsuccessfully) to hide how much it hurt.

"It's only me, Hook. You don't have to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid!" Hook snapped. But then he sighed in resignation. If he was going to survive this curse, he was going to need help. And honestly, Neal was probably his best bet. "It's just that... Anyone would be disturbed by a giant hand coming towards them! And I'm still, adjusting to this situation."

"Point taken." Neal nodded, and, instead of his entire hand, he simply offered the other man his index finger.

Hook gave him an appreciative smile before grabbing hold of the digit and hoisting himself up. Neal then laid his hand out palm up so Hook could step on of his own volition. The pirate steeled his courage and limped onto the the platform of flesh. He thought he might actually be okay with this. Until Neal stood up that is. Hook was forced to grab onto his thumb in order to steady himself. Neal curled his fingers around him protectively and held him close, afraid he might drop his tiny passenger.

"Where are we going?" Hook asked once they started moving.

"To get you patched up and break whatever curse is making you like this." Neal smiled at him reassuringly.

Suddenly feeling extremely exhausted, Hook smiled back.


	10. Person of Interest 2 (major FEELS)

Reese had just finished tying up (in this case literally) their most recent number and was headed back towards his apartment to attempt a bit of sleep. Knowing that good sleep was vital if he wanted to function at full capacity, John had been growing more and more frustrated with himself as it continued to elude him for the past week. He mentioned this to his therapist and she suggested it might have something to do with his recent loss and how he was not allowing himself to grieve properly. But thus far he hadn't opened up to her about such matters. She told him that if he was unwilling or uncomfortable talking to her, that he should definitely talk to a friend. Someone who had been through similar experiences. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should just finally spill his guts...

John shook these thoughts from his mind as he entered his apartment. No, there was no one he could talk to about this. It was just too painful. First Jess, then Carter, and now... Had he let himself grieve over any of them? He didn't want to let himself feel that pain. So he threw himself into his work, again and again. But now, after Shaw, it was different somehow. He didn't think he could survive simply blocking it out again. Not when he didn't even know if she was alive or dead. This time, there was no closure.

But who was there to talk to? To open up to and feel every raw and aching emotion with such intense and painful clarity? There was no one. No one except-

"Mr Reese?"

"Finch, is there another number?" John was relieved at this interruption to his dark thoughts. Even though he had just taken off his shoes and slipped out of his jacket, he would be grateful for a distraction. He wasn't going to be able to sleep anyway.

"No, I just wanted to congratulate you on the timely dispatch of our most recent case. It was a job well done."

Reese was a bit surprised, his employer didn't normally call just to praise him. It was unusual, but he wasn't about to start complaining.

"Uh, thank you?" He replied as soon as he found his voice again. "What's this about, Finch?"

"Nothing. Well, I did read an article recently. There was this study that showed when employers praised the work of their employees more often, the employees improved in their overall work output."

So that's what it was.

Reese grinned, "oh, now I see how it is."

"Not that I don't mean every word that I just said! Your work is always far above adequate."

"Don't worry about it, Finch. I understand."

He heard Finch sigh through the speaker. "Forget I said anything."

There was quiet after that. Reese suddenly felt a burning need to confirm something.

"Finch, you still there?"

"Yes."

"We're- we are friends, right?" He felt entirely strange now asking it and hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

"I should hope so given everything we've been through together." He sounded amused, if somewhat confused, which was an enormous relief to John. It hadn't been a bad question after all.

"Yes, it has been an awful lot, hasn't it..." Reese closed his eyes and smiled.

"I believe it's my turn to ask what this is about now, John." Finch said gently.

John seriously considered being perfectly honest, but this was not something you chatted about over the phone. He sighed, the by now familiar ache in his chest settling painfully over his heart.

"It's nothing," he finally said unconvincingly.

"Hmm," unsurprisingly, Finch was unconvinced. "Well, as a friend, you can come to me about anything, John, if you need to."

Now Reese was thoroughly shocked. "Finch, I..." He was at a loss for words.

"Now, you should really get some rest, Mr. Reese. The city never sleeps, after all, and I suspect we'll have another number soon enough."

"Yeah," John couldn't find anything else to say. His mind was in a jumble and his emotions threatened to overflow.

And then the call ended.

Reese suddenly found himself sitting with his head in his hands, trying to gather himself back together. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling. Relief, happiness, and painful sorrow all mixed together in a cocktail most confusing. He couldn't go on like this, he decided. He trusted Finch with his life. It was time to trust him with his pain. Tomorrow he would tell him everything, though he was sure Finch already knew most.

Tomorrow he would begin to break some old habits.

That night, Reese slept soundly.

~~~~~((?¿?))~~~~~

The next day turned out to be exceptionally busy for Reese, or rather, for his cover identity, detective Riley. He had a mountain of paper work to complete and nothing to distract him from it. Reese was itching for the moment when Finch would call him with a new number and a new mission, an opportunity to have the talk he'd thought about that night, but the call never came. He was left stewing in his thoughts for the better half of the day.

"Hey, Mr. Sunshine." It was Fusco who ended up breaking through the never ending cycle of regret and pain that went on in his mind.

"Yes, Lionel?" He responded wearily.

"You should take a breather, you're starting to darken the entire room. I can cover for you while you're out."

Reese got up to leave, not about to argue. But Fusco stood in his way.

"Listen, I know it's none of my business, but as a friend I gotta say it. Go have a long chat with Glasses. A heart-to-heart or whatever you wanna call it. You're in pain and I get that, but I know you'll never talk to me, so... Take my advice and talk to him."

John gave Fusco a long and searching look before nodding. Satisfied, Fusco moved on and started to get back to work. Before he was out of earshot, however, Reese spoke up;

"Thank you."

Surprised, Fusco turned around, but Reese was already gone. New habits, it was never too late to start.

Reese found Finch in their new underground headquarters. He was sitting at the computers doing research. John had brought him his favorite tea, just like old times.

"Mr. Reese, I wasn't expecting you here." Finch was surprised, but not unpleasantly so.

"I thought we might have a new number."

"I would have called you if that were the case."

Reese sighed and took a seat close by. He supposed that now was the time to talk. But for some reason, even when the opportunity had finally presented itself, he found no words to say. His mind was blank and his chest ached, so he simply sat. At least it was not an uncomfortable silence. John felt no rush to begin what would quickly become an arduous journey of painful emotions. And so they remained in companionable silence. Finch occasionally tapping at his keyboard and John deep in contemplation.

"Shouldn't you be at work as detective Riley?" Finch asked curiously after a time.

"Decided I needed a break," he replied. "What about you, Professor Whistler?"

"Classes are finished for the day." He said simply.

Silence fell again. Reese decided he'd better start before he could change his mind. Starting was always the hardest, but if he could begin this conversation, he was sure everything would start to change. And he desperately hoped it would be change for the better.

"Finch," he began, somehow packing that one word with a world of emotions.

The man turned to him, a questioning look on his face.

"Have you ever... lost someone so important to you, that it feels like you've lost an entire limb?" Reese hardly knew what he was saying, but it felt right.

"Yes." Finch replied quietly.

"It's like, a part of yourself is just gone. And it hurts. Sometimes, it gets so painful you can't feel anything anymore."

"I know." Harold's voice was only a whisper now.

There was a pause as Reese recovered himself. He wasn't sure where he was going with all of this. But Finch hadn't stopped him yet. So he would just have to keep going.

"Is it- is it all right if I... Talk to you about Jess?"

Finch nodded, "of course."

And so he talked. He told Harold everything. From the day they met to the day he left her and then when he found out about her death. He even told him about everything in between. Every mission, every kill, everything. He talked and talked and talked. About how much he'd loved her, how much he'd hated himself, how much he'd suppressed. How he convinced himself he was aiding his country. How he convinced himself he was doing right by her. How every kill seemed to steal away a small part of him. How her death had taken what he thought was the last bit of goodness left to him.

And after all of that, he talked about his time on the run and how he'd first met Carter. He told him how he felt before and after Finch found him. When he discovered that he could still be the good guy. It didn't matter that Finch already knew most of his story. Knowing facts was different from knowing emotions and John was baring his soul to Harold now. He told him how his relationship with Joss developed. When he finally realized that he loved her. And then he talked about their final moments together. How that had been too much pain to bear.

And finally, he talked about Shaw. How losing her that way destroyed him. Was still destroying him.

Finch didn't say a word all through this. He watched as Reese slowly disassembled the walls he had so carefully built. He watched as one of the bravest men he knew revealed just how broken he was. He watched as his friend broke down and truly cried for what was probably the first time in a long time.

Without a word, Harold stood and moved to sit next to John. Not quite sure what the correct thing to do in this type of situation was, he hesitantly placed a hand on the weeping man's shoulder. Reese leaned into him slightly, grateful for any kind of comfort, although he did not believe he deserved it. Harold found himself crying as well and, without thinking, wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling him into a proper hug.

They stayed that way for a long time. Each receiving some much needed comfort from the other.

~~~~~((FIN))~~~~~


	11. The X-Files (tiny oc)

Monty couldn't believe her luck.

It was the middle of the night, and she hadn't had a bite to eat since the day before yesterday. There just weren't that many humans staying in the motel anymore. Honestly, she couldn't blame them. The Brightside Motel was not located in the most reputable part of town. That and it was practically falling apart at the seams. But the fact remained that Monty's main source of food came from the scraps left behind by others. She wouldn't survive for much longer if the humans kept turning up their noses at the bedbugs.

She crept through the ventilation shafts that ran through the motel. They were the easiest way to get around the place when you were only three inches tall. So long as she didn't run into any rats, that is. Monty had come across a few in the vents since they were hardly ever used. The manager liked to save money where he could.

Checking each room as she passed, Monty let out a sigh at yet another disappointment. The place seemed abandoned. One more room, she decided. I'll check one more room and then...

She wasn't sure what then, but Monty was determined. Whatever happened, she would find a way to survive.

When she glanced down through the vent into the next room, she nearly jumped in the air and shouted for joy. There was a man there, talking to someone on the phone. Monty watched him through the slats in the vent, a huge grin plastered on her face. Maybe her luck was changing.

The man seemed to be just staying for a night or two, judging from his small case of belongings. Monty settled down by the vent to wait for the evening to turn to night. With nothing else to do, she listened to the man down below her. Apparently he was some kind of human official. He talked in great length about an investigation and a homicide and other important-sounding things. Monty didn't pay much attention. Human matters didn't concern her, so she didn't worry about them. She /did/ pay attention to the snack bar he started eating after he hung up the phone. With baited breath, she waited to see where it would end up, hoping he didn't finish it completely.

The man seemed preoccupied, and it wasn't long before he put aside the half-eaten bar in favor of focusing on his work. Monty nearly cried tears of joy. He'd placed it on the bedside table, directly underneath the vent where she sat. It would be a simple matter to retrieve once the human was asleep...

Monty's eyes snapped open. She lurched upright, dazed and disoriented. Once she realized she was still in the vents, she relaxed a little. She must've dozed off for a minute there. It had been a while since she'd had a decent amount of shuteye. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, Monty gazed down into the occupied room once again. The human was preparing to retire for the night. He was no longer wearing his suit and had a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. Even still, he rifled through the papers strewn out on the table. Studying pictures and reading and rereading the same files. He seemed so fascinated by whatever it was he was investigating.

Finally, he did settle down and switched off the lights. Monty began to prepare for her decent once he was lying down in the bed. Still, she waited a good hour before doing anything else, just to be safe. The silence settled around her as the night progressed. Her senses tuned into the quieter sounds that normally went unheard. The wind drifting in through the many drafts, cockroaches scuttling through the walls and vents, the many creaks and groans of the motel itself settling. Monty focused in on the room below her, picking up on the human's breathing. It was deep and steady, meaning he was fast asleep.

She smirked, satisfied. Uncoiling the long thread she always kept on her, Monty twisted the bit of wire tied to the end and secured it around one of the slats in the vent. She gave it a few firm tugs to make sure it would hold her before carefully slipping out into the open.

It was always a bit unnerving to hang so far above the ground, with nothing but open space surrounding her. But Monty shoved the feeling aside, focusing on lowering herself safely down. Still, she breathed a sigh of relief once her feet finally touched the solid surface of the bedside table. Monty immediately made her way to the food the human had forgotten. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the /size/ of it. What was only a snack to the man sleeping mere feet from her could feed a whole family at her size for days!

Pulling her handmade bag from her shoulder, Monty set it down at her feet. At first, she tried to break pieces off with her hands, but it was one of those heathy kinds of bars that were hard and did not crumble easily. In the end, she had to resort to stomping down on the food to break it apart.

Just as she began stuffing as many crumbs as she could into her bag, the phone on the table suddenly began to ring. At the harsh sound, Monty jumped so bad she tumbled over with a curse. It was so loud and right next to her she thought she might go deaf. Scrambling to her feet, Monty covered her ears even though it did nothing to block out the obnoxious noise.

The human rolled over, groaning in his sleep. If she didn't get out of sight fast, he was going to see her.

Glancing around quickly, Monty spotted the alarm clock a few inches away. With one last look at the gigantic form of the human stirring, Monty dashed behind the clock, taking shelter in what little cover it provided. She held her breath when the shrill sounds were finally silenced as the man picked up the phone and spoke.

"Hello?" He said in a voice that was husky with sleep.

Monty couldn't suppress a slight shiver at the sound of his voice. It was so deep and so close to her. He must have been leaning over the phone receiver. If he moved just a little further, he would be able to see her over the alarm clock.

"Yeah, this is Agent Mulder... Uh huh... Another victim...? Alright, I'll be over there as soon as possible."

The phone hung up with a loud /clack/ right next to her. She heard the man sigh, and then cloth shifting as though he were getting up. But then there was a pause. She waited with baited breath as the seconds ticked by. Then, a shadow passed over her and she listened as he picked something else up off of the side table.

Monty realized with a wave of dread and horror that she had left her bag lying next to the bar. Not only that, but her hook and line were still dangling from the vent. The human must have seen them. She swallowed thickly, her back pressed against the plastic of her only protection. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears she wondered briefly if the human could hear it.

Then the world seemed to freeze.

Apparently, the man guessed her hiding spot as his fingers descended into her view. Monty stared in horrified fascination as the enormous digits came closer. They brushed against her and then froze. This was enough to snap her out of her stupor as panic gripped her anew and caused her to act. Monty dove away from the intruding hand, nearly tumbling down the crack between the table and the wall. She steadied herself, eyes spotting her one last chance of escape.

The alarm clock wire trailed down to the floor, if she could climb down it she just might be able to stay out of sight. Wasting no time, Monty threw herself onto the cord and practically slid down it. She didn't get far, however.

Suddenly, her whole world was lurching upward. She let out a small shriek of terror. That was the exact opposite direction she wanted to go! Monty squeezed her eyes shut tight, just waiting for the inevitable end to this madness.

Soon, the movement came to a stop. Monty could feel herself swaying gently back and forth, like a fish dangling from a hook. She gripped her only lifeline tighter, eyes still closed. It was only when she felt a warm breath wash over her that she looked up again. Wide and frightened bright, blue eyes met soft brown ones. Monty suddenly found herself trembling under their scrutiny. For what felt like an eternity, the man only stared at her in slack-jawed amazement. Finally, he seemed to collect himself, blinking slowly and tilting his head.

"Huh..."

She shivered at the curious expression on his face and looked away. It was so /big/ and overwhelming. To have his attention focused solely on her made her feel sick to her stomach. Glancing around, Monty took in her new surroundings. She still held out some hope of getting away safe. Below her, the cord led downwards to safety, but there was no way she could get down fast enough. And a fall from this height would most likely kill her, she told herself grimly. Above her, Monty could see the underside of the alarm clock and the human's large hand holding it suspended in the air. She shuddered to think what would happen if he dropped it.

"What are you?"

The question, so earnestly asked, snapped her attention back to the giant before her. Monty swallowed thickly, suddenly becoming intensely aware of how close his face was to her. When no reply was forthcoming from her, the man shifted. His free hand approached her, causing her to flinch away. Or at least as best she could from her position. Enormous fingertips bigger than her head brushed against her back. Before Monty knew it, his hand wrapped around her. His thumb pressed into her waist, prying her away from the electrical cord.

"No!" She shouted before she could stop herself. Monty tried to struggle against him, but her hands were slick with sweat and she couldn't hold on much longer. Soon she was held entirely in the human's hand. Completely at his mercy.

Monty tried to struggle free, but froze as the man's gargantuan form shifted around her. He placed the alarm clock back on the side table before turning once more to her.

"So, you can talk." He said, his voice full of wonder.

Monty bit her tongue at that, starting her struggles anew. She couldn't let this human find out any more about her. Or else she might end up endangering others just like her.

"Do you have a name?"

She ignored the question. Opting instead to glare up at him when her struggling got her nowhere. He frowned, reaching towards her with his other hand. Gasping, Monty flinched away. Her heart rate spiked in fear and she squeezed her eyes shut. Noticing her reaction, the man froze. Glancing around, he considered a difference approach.

When nothing happened to her after a moment, Monty cautiously opened her eyes again. The human was no longer looking directly at her. Instead, his attention seemed to be diverted by something on the side table. Before she could even considered what it was, however, her world suddenly became a blur. The man had stood up and begun to move around. But even just him walking around was too much for Monty to comprehend at the moment. Before she knew it, his hand was suddenly gone and she was left stumbling on a hard surface.

A quick look around told her that she was on the larger table in the apartment. Well, large to her, small for him. He was sitting close, and watching her closely. But at least he was no longer grabbing her. Without her climbing rope, however, she had no hope of getting down to the floor from here.

Monty didn't have much time to collect herself before the human's hand was approaching her again. She jumped back in fear, but he didn't even reach for her. Instead, his hand stopped a several inches from her and placed something on the table. It was her bag, still full of crumbs. Monty eyed him suspiciously, wondering if this was some kind of trap. He only watched her. Big, cow eyes full of curiosity.

"I mean you no harm." He said, "I just wanna talk."

Shooting daggers at him with her eyes, Monty stalked over to where he'd left her bag. She scooped it off the table, examining it for damage. Once satisfied it was still in one piece, she pulled it over her shoulder. Monty was surprised by how much better she felt once its familiar weight was hanging by her side once again.

"What's your name?"

She flinched. His voice was a grim reminder of her situation. However, when she searched his face, Monty saw only sincerity and not a trace of bad intentions. There was no harm in going along with what he wanted. For now.

"M- Monty," she stuttered, a little embarrassed by how much her voice trembled. "It's Monty."

"Mulder," he responded, smiling. His eyes practically lit up at her words. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Monty."

She shrugged, not quite sure how to respond to that.

Slowly, so as not to startle her so much, Mulder leaned forward. He rested his chin on his arms in an attempt to be more at eye-level with her. Monty watched him carefully, but did not flinch away.

"I hope you don't mind this next question, but... What, exactly, are you?"

She crossed her arms defensively.

"I'm a person." Monty answered simply, but with a great deal of venom.

His eyebrows shot up at this response. "Alright, I can see that. I just wasn't sure if there was a name for, people like you."

"Who's says there're people like me?"

"Aren't there?"

At his last question, Monty deflated a little. "No," she shook her head. "At least, none that I've ever met."

"I'm sorry," he said. And he looked like he meant it.

"Don't be." Monty laughed bitterly, "no one else like me means no one else has to go through being captured and treated like- like some animal."

He actually winced at that, but otherwise didn't respond. Monty shivered, afraid maybe she had gone too far. After a moment of silence and them simply studying each other, he seemed to reach a decision.

"Listen, I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to. And I'm really sorry about what I did earlier. I had no idea what you were. But... I have to get ready to go investigate a murder, aaaand I'd like to make you an offer."

Monty stared at the man smirking over her in shock. She could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"Wha-"

Before she could even begin to start, he cut her off. "You can come with me," he shrugged, "if you want."

Then he stood and walked away from her. Monty continued to stare after him, completely speechless. He went about his business, getting dressed and whatnot, before she found her voice again.

"Are you insane!"

"Depends on who you ask."

"Do you honestly think I'd choose to go with you?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't really like the idea of living in some dingy, old motel for the rest of my life. And yet, here you are. The case I'm working on is very interesting, I could fill you in on the way to the crime scene. Besides," he continued, coming up to the table again, ready to go, "I'm not so bad once you get to know me."

Monty glanced between the hand being offered to her and Mulder's face. She couldn't believe that she was actually considering this.

Maybe her luck had changed after all...


End file.
